Fukushuu
by Cynlee
Summary: Turtle tots. Sometimes a brother can be helpful, and sometimes he can't.


_I think the title is rather clever in a visual sense. TMNT aren't mine, though I did get some NECA figures and they ROCK!_

**Fukushuu**

"Are you sure?"

The young turtle looked offended.

"You came here asking me for help, and I helped you, and now you're asking me if I'm sure? Again? You asked me that three times already!"

The other eight-year-old frowned, staring at the hard-drawn kanji message he had been laboring over since after breakfast. It was meant for Master Splinter as both an apology for what had taken place earlier and proof that he had been making progress in his writing. But now, he wasn't sure if it was right. Though he could read a few of the words, he still wasn't too certain about a few more. It seemed like what he wanted to say, and yet...

He looked again at his brother, studying his face for any trace of a smile, any hint of a suppressed giggle. His brother stared back calmly and sincerely.

"This better not be a joke," he said warily. "I'm already in enough trouble."

The other looked wounded.

"Would I do that to my favorite bro?" he replied, putting a hand to his own plastron in disbelief.

"Yes."

The other sniffed, then shrugged indifferently.

"If you don't believe me, you can go ask Leo. He knows more about it than me or you."

An emphatic shake of the head was the response to this statement.

"Leo ain't exactly someone I want help from with anything, especially this, and especially after this mornin'."

"Then go ask Don."

That settled it. It must be right. If he was directed to two brothers who were better at kanji than he was, it must be right.

Suddenly he smiled.

"Thanks, Bro, for the help."

"Don't mention it. Ever."

The happy turtle immediately headed for Sensei, who was in the living area watching some boring show, relaxing after the morning's training, and trying to erase the memory of what had happened before the afternoon's session began. His tail was still sore, but the application of soothing herbal lotion (of his own making) had taken the sharp sting out of it.

"Ahem... Master Splinter?"

He looked up to see one of the causes of this morning's incident, standing before him, shifting from one nervous foot to the other, something hidden behind his back.

"Yes, my son?"

More hesitation; then:

"I wrote you somethin'," he said, thrusting the slightly crumpled paper at his sensei.

Splinter accepted it and began to read the kanji, amused that his son had made the attempt to impress him with--

He suddenly looked up sharply at the son standing there, still a bit nervous, but patiently waiting. He reread the message more slowly, the very tip of his poor tail beginning to twitch. The young turtle, however, didn't notice.

"I been workin' on it all morning," he said in the silence that was threatening to smother them all. "I mean every word of it!"

Splinter's eyes went wide at this assertion. His whiskers trembled just a bit, but the rat held onto his composure.

"You do? You mean every word, my son?"

"Yes Sensei!"

Splinter handed the paper to him.

"Read it to me."

The turtle cleared his throat in his best "I am about to read to my sensei and father" manner.

"Sensei, I am sincerely sorry for hurting your tail this morning while I was fighting with Leo. I promise that I shall never ever ever never ever let it happen again."

Splinter studied his son, weighing the sincerity of the spoken words versus the kanji on the paper. His ears detected the faintest snickering coming from somewhere in the lair.

"Who helped you with this, Michelangelo?"

"Raph! Wasn't that cool of him?" Michelangelo replied in a cheerful voice. "I wasn't sure that he would help me 'cause I don't know some of the words-- and he's not that good at it like Don or Leo-- but it was nice that he wanted to help me! I couldn't believe it, especially after yesterday when I sort of accidentally spilled that pancake syrup on his toy soldiers and then kind of let them ants find them so it'd look like that horror movie we watched--"

"Thank you, my son, for the apology," Splinter cut him off. "You may go play."

Mike bowed to his father.

"I'm gonna make another one to thank Raphie for helping me!" he said, heading back to his work table to grab fresh paper, ink and brush.

Splinter studied the message, his ears twitching this way and that trying to detect any more brotherly snickering.

"Raphael," he called out. "I need to speak with you."

And he reread the letter again, as he waited for the slow approach of his incorrigible son.

_"Sensei, I am sincerely sorry for biting your big fat ass this morning while I was fighting with Leo. I was trying to bite Leo's big fat ass, but yours got in the way. I promise that I shall never ever ever never ever bite your big fat ass again."_

_I think Raphael needs some extra kanji practice for the next two weeks, as well as twenty flips in the dojo._

oooOOOoooOOOooo

**_Moral: (choose one)_**

_Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. -- Confucius_

_Revenge is sweet and not fattening. -- Alfred Hitchcock_

_Revenge is wrong, but sometimes it's worth two weeks of kanji practice and twenty flips in the dojo. -- Hamato Raphael_


End file.
